


Dive Deep

by quartzguts



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study-ish, F/M, Growing Up, basically rex's life from childhood to meeting pyra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-11 23:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: “Salvage,” Rex murmurs as his eyes start to droop. “I could salvage.”To help his family, Rex begins salvaging at ten years old. Over the years, he falls in love three times: once with the sea, once with the world, and once with a girl.





	Dive Deep

**Author's Note:**

> i think rex is an absolutely fantastic character and i really, really wanted to write a rex-centric fic. pyra's here too because you really can't write rex without including the love of his life
> 
> the rex/pyra comes in towards the end and rex/mythra is only mentioned, but it's clear enough i still wanted to tag the ship.

\---

Rex is two years old when his parents die. He doesn’t really remember them, so he asks Auntie Corrine to tell him about them over and over. She always says the same things, about how his mother asked her to take him in and how his father must have loved them both very much. It's nice to hear, but it's impossible to know if it's true. Just like it’s impossible to know what Tantal is like, even if Auntie Corrine says that’s where she _ thinks _he’s from. Their clothes had the look, apparently. Rex still has the child size winter coat hanging up in the closet he shares with three of his little siblings. But he doesn't remember the place.

It doesn’t really matter. He’s from Leftheria now. He’ll always be from Leftheria.

He’s seven when he starts helping Auntie Corrine take care of the other kids. Her orphanage was small when she took him in, but as the war between Gormott and Mor Ardain gets worse and worse, she has more and more orphans to care for. By the time their family stops growing, there are about twenty kids other than him. Most of them are too young to help babysit and the others are too bitter and angry to care. Rex feels awful, watching Auntie Corrine run around day after day, trying to wrangle small children and change diapers and cook meals, struggling even with the help of the village. So he decides to help.

She gives him small jobs first. Change the babies’ diapers. Clear the table, wash the dishes. Take the older kids into town. Teach them to swim and read. Later he helps her make breakfast, cook dinner, clean the house, patch up the roof, fill the heavy water bucket from the well in town and bring it home before bathtime. Small tasks turn into large ones and, over time, Rex becomes everyone's big brother. Everything is wonderful, as far as Rex is concerned. Life is peaceful, in this little bubble, and it's worth the sleepless nights spent comforting the kids after their nightmares for the smiles on their faces and the love in Auntie Corrine’s eyes.

Until he turns ten.

He comes downstairs one evening and sees Auntie Corrine hunched over her checkbook in the living room, worry lines hard around her eyes and mouth. She’s frowning, which is a rare sight. Rex sits next to her on the old sofa.

“What’s wrong, Auntie?” he asks.

“It’s nothing, child. Go along to bed now.” Her eyes dart over the checkbook. She scratches out a line and writes something above it. Then she scratches that out, too.

Rex looks over the checkbook. He’s seen her write out their expenses enough that he knows what it says. “We’re running out of money.”

Auntie Corrine sighs heavily. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, love. Go to bed.”

“Why aren't we getting enough from the village?” Rex pokes at the line that shows their income for the month. It’s less than usual. “What’s wrong? The war is far away from here. Everything’s fine.”

“Just because war isn’t right on our doorstep doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect us,” she says. “Now that Mor Ardain has Gormott, they don’t need what little crops we can grow for export, so they’re not buying. Uraya has cropland to spare, so they don’t need us either. Indol gets all their imports from Gormott and Uraya, and Tantal doesn’t trade with anybody.”

Rex’s nose scrunches up. “So we… the village can’t make any more money?”

“‘Fraid not. And with that we don’t get as much as we used to. The Mayor’s doing the best she can, but… well, we’re going to have to forego some things for a while. I’ll take care of it, so don’t you worry.” Auntie Corrine pats his head and looks back to the checkbook. She scratches out the line labelled _ books_, and draws a circle around the one labelled _ food_. As she goes down the list, Rex realizes she’s marking what they need and don’t need. They need food. They don’t need books.

But if they don’t have books, how will the kids become educated? They can’t go back to Gormott now if they can’t read or do arithmetic. All the farming is done using Mor Ardainian machines nowadays, or so Rex has heard. And they want their farmers to read so they can follow written instructions.

Rex frowns hard at the wood floor of the house he’s spent most of his life in. For the first time, he notices that the rug is worn and faded. “Auntie, how do people make money?”

“Aw, you’re sweet, Rex,” she coos, “but like I said, don’t worry.”

“I just wanna know.” Rex bounces his leg. It’s late, but he isn’t tired. He wants to do something, now. “How do people make money?”

“Lots of ways,” she says. “Some people have special skills, like teachers and doctors, and they sell their services. Some people sell food and other little trinkets.”

“Other stuff? Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, salvage and that sort of thing.” Auntie Corrine looks out the window and frowns. The sky is dark, and the moon hangs high up above Alrest. “Now, it’s far past your bedtime. Go on.”

“Yes, Auntie,” Rex says. He slides off the couch, gives her a little kiss on the cheek, and goes upstairs to his room. Two of his little sisters and one of his brothers are already in bed, sprawled out together on the only mattress they have for their room. Rex takes his blanket and lies down on the floor as always, under the window. One of the girls had gotten scared of a story she'd read a while back about monsters, and asked him to guard the window at night. Even if she isn’t scared anymore, he still huddles up under the window night after night and enjoys the breeze.

“Salvage,” Rex murmurs as his eyes start to droop. “I could salvage.”

In his dreams he swims in the cloud sea.

\---

The next day he goes to Courtcoster Salvaging and hands over the little bit of coin he has.

“What’s this?” Apropos asks as he wipes off one of the gold cylinders on display. The day is bright, and the cylinders are gleaming. Rex almost burns his eyes staring at them.

“I want to buy a cylinder,” Rex says. “This is enough for a normal one, right?”

“Sure, but why do you want a cylinder? It’s only useful for salvaging.” Despite his words, Apropos hoists one of the normal cylinders up onto the counter and starts checking it for dents and scratches. When he's satisfied with its condition, he hands it over to Rex and takes the money. Rex guesses he must be struggling, too. Only a few of the other villagers salvage, and it’s mostly just a hobby for them. Courtcoster Salvaging depends on the business of outsiders, and very few ships have come into port since Mor Ardain stopped trading.

“I want to try salvaging,” Rex says confidently. “If I find something good, I can sell it and help Auntie Corrine.”

“Well, well! Growing into a fine young man, are you?” Apropos claps him on the back. “Good on you. You know how to use the cylinder, right?”

Rex doesn’t. Apropos gives him a little manual, which has frayed pages and faded ink, along with a brief explanation on how to hook the cylinder up. Then he gives Rex a child size diving suit on loan and tells him he can buy it later at a discount.

“Thanks,” Rex says. Then he runs to the salvaging spot just outside of town. It’s called Messet Point, and it’s a long way down to the cloud sea from its peak. Rex has dived into the waves nearly every day his whole childhood, but staring down at the white sea while the diving suit hangs heavy and unfamiliar around his limbs turns him into a little ball of nervousness. He feels like he should try swimming in the suit first, just to get a feel for it, but he’s already here and he doesn’t want to back down now.

He hooks the cylinder up. It’s grown hot under the sun, and he can feel it even through his gloves. The diving suit is blue, which isn’t his favorite color in the world, but he’ll make do. When he clasps the helmet into place and looks out through the mask, the world looks a little bit hazy, like it’s made of smoke.

He takes a running start and falls spectacularly into the sea.

He tries his best to orient his body so he dives in seamlessly, but his limbs are even heavier in the air and he can’t get the angle quite right. It seems to be fine, though, since he’s sinking anyway. Once he overcomes the shock of hitting the clouds with the extra weight of the cylinder on his back he finds his bearings easily.

It’s the same sea he’s swam in countless times before, but he’s breathing and the clouds aren’t burning against his eyes. He takes a deep breath and swims down.

The light starts fading only a few feet in. Rex flips on the flood light attached to his helmet. It only makes it harder to see with how it illuminates every bubble and cloud that floats by. He needs it, though, since the further down he goes the darker it gets.

There’s complete silence here. He can see the faint purple glow of the Leftherian Archipelago as the titans twist and turn under the sea. He never sees them move when he’s on land. The sight mesmerizes him.

There’s many, many things floating around, from monsters to children’s toys to scraps of trash. Rex dimly recognizes a doll that belonged to his sister, which she lost in a rip current two weeks ago. He’s tempted to swim over and pick it up, until a crustip scuttles over it. Rex decides it’s best not to die on his first dive and swims away.

The bubbles rise around him. It gets easier to swim, his arms and legs cutting through the blue seamlessly. The cloud sea looks more like water down here, with eternal black nothingness beneath him and the faint light of the sun cutting in from above. Rex loves this, he decides. It’s the first time he’s been alone in a long, long time, and he doesn’t have to think or feel anything except the gentle pressure of the sea against his body.

The light of his lamp catches on something metallic clinging to the Fonsett titan’s legs. Rex swims over and carefully picks up a few trinkets that have washed into the cracks in its skin. One of them is a little tube, while the other looks like a belt for a machine. Rex offhandedly thinks that they look like the parts he’d see on Ardainian machines when they used to come with their big ships to buy food from the farms in the village.

He shoves both of the trinkets in his bag and moves on. He has five more hours on this cylinder, and he intends to use all of them.

\---

He comes back up with only a few minutes to spare. Once he breaks the surface, he snaps his helmet back and takes a good, deep breath. The air is sweet against his tongue. Rex floats for a while before swimming back to shore.

Immediately after he gets on land he falls down. His body is unimaginably heavy, and for the first time he notices how exhausted he is. The bag of salvage at his side weighs him down.

Rex rolls over onto his back and looks up at the sky. It’s hazy with the light of dusk, and he can see a few stars begin to emerge as the sun finishes sinking beneath the horizon. Rex looks at the place it falls into the sea and smiles. He wants to salvage there, one day - right on the edge of the world.

Tiny feet hit the sand somewhere to his right. He looks up.

It’s one of his sisters. She gasps when she sees him. “Rex! Auntie Corrine, it’s Rex! I think he’s dead!”

Rex laughs happily. He props himself up, despite the protest from his arms. “Hey, I’m not dead! Give me a little credit here.”

His sister runs up to hug him. Rex groans at how tightly she’s holding him. His lungs are dying. Just as he gets used to the feeling, a stronger pair of arms wraps around his back.

“Where were you?” Auntie Corrine hisses. Rex stills. She very rarely gets angry at him, but when she does, she’s scary. “I was so worried! What were you thinking?”

“I went out to salvage?” Rex tries.

“Yes, I know that! Apropos told me. You little fool. What if a monster had gotten you? What if you’d drowned?"

Rex shrugged both of them off and pulled his prize bag onto his lap. “But I didn’t. And look at all the stuff I got!”

Auntie Corrine watches as Rex pulls out piece after piece. His prizes look less impressive in the moonlight, since there’s no headlamp to light them up, but they’re heavy and have more substance, it seems. His sister coos at a little figurine of some animal Rex doesn’t recognize. He hands it over and tells her to keep it.

“What do you need all this stuff for?” Auntie Corrine asks. She doesn’t sound angry anymore. “I mean, if it makes you happy I can’t complain, but….”

“We can sell it!” Rex beams. “And then we can buy books for the kids!”

“Oh.” Auntie Corrine ruffles his hair. It’s wild and tangled from the helmet. “Oh, Rex.”

\---

Rex sells some of the salvage the next day in town. The belt he found turns out to be a Fairy-Tale Belt Pulley, which sells for quite a pretty bit of G at Tottet Trading. An Urayan mercenary boat comes into port the day after, and as the mercs run around training against the Archipelago’s toughest monsters, Rex manages to sell a few things to them. One woman takes him aside and very kindly tells him that if he cleans the treasures first, he can sell them at a higher value. Rex beams as he thanks her.

She smiles. “What’s a kid like you need money for, anyway?”

“I’m helping support Auntie and the other kids,” Rex says. “Since we don’t get enough money from trade anymore.”

The merc ruffles his hair and tips him 15% for his troubles.

Rex goes salvaging again that weekend, and then two more times the following week. He learns by looking through a few salvaging manuals he buys, and by talking to people in the village and on mercenary ships. He starts sorting his salvage into things he can sell and things he can’t. The sorting and cleaning and polishing is all done outside, and then brought in where he lays down his things on blankets in his room. It’s starting to get cramped, with him and whatever other kids end up sleeping there at night. Rex knows he has to get a base of operations going, and soon.

He’s thinking about converting his childhood hiding space into a salvage shop when Gramps visits.

Gramps doesn’t visit the Archipelago often, but when he does he takes all the kids out on the cloud sea and tells them stories about the way Alrest used to be. Occasionally he’ll coach Rex - but only Rex - in swordfighting, giving him tips as he swings a wooden sword at a scarecrow.

This time is no different. After they spend the better part of the day riding around on Gramps’s back as he swims through the sea, all twenty of Rex’s brothers and sisters go home while Rex stays on the beach and swings his sword.

This time, it’s a real sword, with a dull blade hardly able to cut hair, let alone skin. Auntie Corrine looks at it worriedly and tells Rex to be careful. Rex just grins.

“So, Gramps,” he says as he cuts up, then diagonal, then across, just like Gramps told him, “what’s with the sword? I thought you said I was too young to use real weapons.”

“That’s hardly a weapon, my boy,” Gramps says. He nods approvingly at the move and Rex slides into his stance, ready to do it again. “Besides, times are changing. You may need to get used to wielding a real sword sooner than I’d thought.”

“What’dya mean?” Another slice, another whoosh of air around the blade. It’s heavier than what Rex is used to, but he’s warming up to it quickly. He always had been a natural with swords. At least, that’s what Gramps says.

Gramps turns to look up at the moon, which is rising slowly into the blue-purple of the night sky. “There’s been tension between Mor Ardain and Uraya. Indol will likely be able to mediate again, but who knows? This time, Alrest may go to war.”

“I don’t get it,” Rex says. “It’s only Mor Ardain and Uraya. There’s plenty of other titans. Why do they matter so much?”

“Mor Ardain and Uraya have power,” Gramps explains gently. Rex sets the sword down in the sand and sits, ready to listen to the inevitably long speech Gramps has prepared. “Mor Ardain is a strong military power, with advanced technology. Uraya’s technology is somewhat behind, but they have better cropland, so they’ve been the dominant power of Alrest for the past decade. Since Mor Ardain annexed Gormott, Uraya has felt their superiority challenged.”

Rex frowns. “Still, what does that have to do with us? Other than that they won’t trade with us anymore.”

“War takes resources, Rex,” Gramps says. “And this is a war being fought _ over _ resources, so both countries are getting desperate. One day, they might choose to turn their hostilities to Leftheria. It is one of the only remaining places on Alrest outside of Gormott and Uraya with fertile cropland, after all.”

“But we’d trade with either of them! They don’t have to fight us!” Rex curls his hands into fists. “Why can’t we just get along? Why can’t _ they _ just get along?”

Gramps chuckles. “The world isn’t that simple, my boy. You’ll understand when you get older.”

“I don’t want to understand,” Rex says resolutely. He remembers the terrified eyes of his siblings when they’d just come to Leftheria from Gormott, the nights where they’d wake up screaming and afraid for their lives, the way they watch blades with distrust and apprehension. The way years of living peacefully, far away from war and death, hadn’t managed to heal them completely. “I hate war. I wish people could live together without fighting all the time.”

“That would certainly be a feat.”

Rex goes back to practicing. A few minutes later, he lowers his sword and looks up at Gramps’s old, cracked face. “They’re fighting over food, right? And land. Since you need land to grow food.”

Gramps looks contemplative. “Yes.”

“So, if we had enough land, humans could live together peacefully, right? Blades, too.”

“Perhaps.”

Rex looks down to the sword. He tightens his grip. “All we need is land.”

\---

Gramps offers to take Rex to one of the trade guilds not long after. They can salvage on the way, and while there will be less to haul up what they do get will be less junk and more treasure. Rex can get a feel for bartering and trading, and selling his wares for more than they’re worth. That’s good because if he wants to keep being a salvager it’s what he needs to learn how to do. Rex doesn’t like the thought of making an unfair trade, and when he says as much Gramps smiles at him like he’s proud of Rex’s foolishness.

They end up salvaging some pretty neat treasure on the way: mostly titan quartz and old ship engines, plus a few trinkets here and there. Rex pulls up a few things he’s not sure about, and tosses them back into the sea when Gramps informs him they’re weapons.

He saunters into the Argentum Trade Guild’s Goldmouth location with false bravado. It’s the first time he can remember being outside the Archipelago, and everything is huge and flashy and different. There are people everywhere, buying and selling all sorts of expensive things. The whole guild is decorated in red and gold. It’s gaudy and so unlike the gentle white sands and greenery of Leftheria that it burns Rex’s eyes. He walks until he sees the Central Exchange. It’s a little shop in a hollowed metal beam with a nopon standing behind the counter. Gramps had told him to barter some of his less expensive goods first, and get some mechanical items the village needs. Practical stuff, like pieces for broken ovens or a new pump for the village water well. He has a list of all the things the villagers need, with Auntie Corrine’s requests circled in red.

He has to wait in line. After a few people come and go (they’re all much older than him, Rex notes with a certain level of nervousness), his turn is finally up.

The nopon regards him with narrowed eyes. She has yellow fur and pink clothes, and reminds Rex of the pile of teddy bears the kids share back home. “What this? A littlepon wanting to do business?”

“Um, yeah.” He scratches the back of his head. As he thought, child salvagers probably aren’t common around here. Or anywhere. “I have some, uh, stuff to trade, and -”

“No no no! Littlepons not have _ good _ goods! Littlepons only have crayon art and seashells!” Her ears wave in the air as she speaks. Rex watches them with astonishment. He’s only ever seen one or two nopons in his life before, and he’s surprised by how cute she is. “Friend must leave! Next in line!”

_ Crap. “ _No, please! I really do have some good stuff!” Rex rummages around in his bag. He pulls out a handful of small stuff and puts it on the table. “Here, look at this.”

The nopon examines the goods. “Hmm… fancy bolt… butterfly lens… titan quartz! Where friend get such items?”

“I salvaged them.” Rex lets himself be proud of the way she looks at him in surprise.

“Friend is salvager? But friend still littlepon!” she says. “Why friend salvage when so young?”

“My family needs it,” Rex says. He can hear the people behind him start to mutter to themselves, wondering why he's taking so long. “I’m Leftherian, and we don’t make much money off of crops anymore since Mor Ardain annexed Gormott.”

“Oh, poor littlepon!” she says. “War so cruel. Here, Melolo trade with friend.” Without asking Rex to name a price, she pulls the butterfly lens and titan quartz towards herself and fishes around underneath the desk. Then she plops a bag on the table. It clinks as she sets it down.

Rex takes the bag and marvels at its weight. Inside are more coins than he’s ever seen in one place. “What’s this?”

“12,000 G,” Melolo says as she stores her purchases somewhere out of sight. “Is fair price.”

Rex stares, mouth ajar.

Melolo places a hand to her chin. “Friend have more to trade?”

“No, no!” Rex says. “Just - thank you. I can buy my brothers and sisters books with this. I can buy the village a whole new set of farming equipment!”

“Oh, is nothing,” Melolo says. “Melolo run business, not charity! Come back again and Melolo give you good deal, yes? What friend’s name?”

“I’m Rex,” he says. “I’ll come back. Definitely.”

“Rex, good, good,” Melolo chirps. “If friend Rex want books, go to Reedirait Bookstore. Have good children’s books, yes. Next!”

Rex awkwardly bows to her and rushes to get out of the way of the impatient salvager behind him. He looks down at the pouch in his hands and grins. 12,000 G. It’s more than twice what he thought he’d make, and he hasn’t even sold everything yet.

Belatedly, he remembers he was supposed to trade his salvage for items, but it doesn’t really matter now. With what he just made, he could just buy most of the things on his list. The rest he can barter for on the salvage deck, where salvagers exchange the raw goods they just came up with.

As he walks through the Bazaar, something glints in the corner of his eye. It’s a cylinder shop, with a silver cylinder on display front and center, and a small depth probe sitting next to it.

Rex grins.

\---

Rex is almost eleven when he starts to get tired of his new life. He practically lives on Gramps now, salvaging all day, then goes to the trade guilds to barter and sell, and then goes back to Leftheria to give Auntie Corrine the money. Their port is a little busier, since the tensions between Mor Ardain and Uraya have blown over. They can usually buy whatever they need from the passing merchants with the money Rex supplies. The kids have beds now, not just mattresses on the floor, and there’s a new rug in the living room. Auntie Corrine is cooking in new copper cooking pans. Rex is getting tired.

He never knew traveling could be so exhausting. At first it was fun, and the novelty of spending all day on the sea overshadowed everything else. But now the constant moving and mundanity of the circular trips he makes every month is starting to wear on him. It’s gotten bad enough that even the younger kids have noticed, and Auntie Corrine frowned and placed a hand on his forehead to check for fever the last time he went home.

He wanders into Goldmouth without any particular destination in mind and ends up sitting on one of the cargo boxes next to the Bazaar. The fairy lights over his head are a welcome change from the harsh rays of the sun. He lets his eyes slip shut.

Just as he's about to fall asleep, a tap on his shoulder wakes him up. He opens his eyes to see a familiar worried face.

"Hey, it's not really safe to sleep here," Max says. "Someone could steal from you."

Max is a courier, who runs letters and packages all around Alrest for the busy people rushing in and out of Argentum every day. Rex has hired him more than once to send letters to Auntie Corrine, although it feels redundant because he goes home all the time.

Rex rubs at his eyes. "Right. Thanks, Max." He slides off the box. His salvager's boots land heavily on the ground. "I'm just a little tired. It's nothing, really."

"Are you sure?" Max asks. Rex nods. "Well, alright. Say, let's get some coffee. It'll help wake you up."

Rex nods again and follows Max up to the Rumbletum Canteen. There's food stalls up there, with a few that serve coffee at all times of the day for sleepy salvagers and mercenaries.

Max sits Rex down at one of the tables, then goes to order their coffee. Rex knows without asking that Max won't let him pay for his. Most of the time it annoys him, how some of the regulars at the guild like Melolo and Max treat him like a baby brother. Melolo gives him good deals on the salvage he brings in, and Max offers his courier services at half price. He knows some of the other regulars resent him for getting special treatment, and he sort of resents it too. It's complicated, but he can't help being a kid, so he knows it's not worth worrying about. He'll be older one day, and then things will be different.

Max comes back with their coffee. His is black, while Rex's is half milk. 

"Thanks," he says. He holds the cup so close the steam nearly burns his face.

Max looks at him with the same concerned look Auntie Corrine and Gramps give him every once in a while. "Are you sure you're alright, Rex?"

"I'm a little tired," Rex admits. "It'd be easier if I could stay out salvaging near the trade guilds all the time, but I've gotta go back to Leftheria every month. It gets a bit much, travelling all that way." He laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "I must sound like a total brat, complaining about having to go home. Lots of people don't even have homes."

"I don't think so," Max says. "You just sound like a kid."

Rex pouts. "I hate that."

"Well, you _ are _ a kid, so get used to it." Max laughs at the glare Rex shoots him. "Hey, how about hiring a courier to send money home for you? It doesn't have to be me, but I'd be happy to do it for you."

Rex pauses. The coffee burns a little against his tongue, but the sweetness of the milk makes it taste good. "Huh. That's a good idea, actually. I'll have to talk to Auntie Corrine, but it could work… why didn't I think of that before?"

Max smiles, giving him that smug-big-brother look again. "Because you're a dumb kid?"

Rex threatens to spill his coffee on him. They laugh. Life already looks a little bit calmer.

\---

Rex is thirteen now, and he's still not sick of the cloud sea. He loves the white foam at the surface and the blues and blacks of the depths that greet him every time he dives in. He takes care of his equipment diligently, and spends the time he has away from the trade guilds just floating in the sea, letting the clouds stick to his skin and soothe away the burning of the hot sun above.

It's raining today, so there's none of that - the sea is too violent to float on. Gramps is weathering the storm with little trouble, but Argentum creeks and sways as the winds and rain batter the titan that keeps it afloat.

Rex is long past being bothered by storms. The experienced merchants walk around like the weather is nothing, only pausing to grab into a railing when the rocking gets particularly bad. The furniture is bolted into the floor to stop it from rolling around, so Rex feels content to sit on his bench in the Bower Lounge and listen to the rain patter on the windows.

Rain is good for thinking, and Rex has been doing a lot of that recently. He's been thinking about the world and the state of it. Mor Ardain and Uraya are still barely avoiding a war, thanks to Indol's on going mediations; there are periodic rebellions in Gormott over food shortages caused by over-exporting to Mor Ardain; Tantal is in a stalemate with some of the other nations for arresting a group of mercs for illegally harvesting _ monster parts _ of all things, which is so mundane Tantal should just let the unauthorized entry slide, in Rex's opinion. It seems like there's trouble brewing everywhere, and the market for weapons in Argentum has only increased since Rex started selling here three years ago.

He could make a fortune if he'd sell the weapons he finds instead of tossing them back into the sea. Everybody tells him so - Melolo, Max, even Utoto who owns Lemour Inn and Rurui who runs the salvaging shop. He won't do it, though. He won't take part in the fighting and tension and hatred that probably killed his parents and definitely killed his sibling's. He'll avoid getting involved in that mess until the day he dies.

Still, he can't help but feel that Gramps had been right, three years ago; the world isn’t as simple as _ give everyone what they need and they'll all get along_. Rex is old enough to understand that now. But he wants to believe in that naive idea anyway. He knows people are good, because he's met so many kind people over the years, and he really, truly believes that when people do terrible things it's because they feel like they have no choice.

When he thinks about the world like this, he thinks about salvaging, too. So many people bring up weapons, armor, machines that built weapons and armor. That’s what sells for the highest bids; that’s what buyers are after. The armies, the mercs, they all need tools for war. But they buy so much of the stuff it's like they've forgotten that people need other things to survive, too. People need rakes and farm hoes and water wells; people need sewing machines and ovens and cooking pans. People need rugs and books. There are lots of things people need that Rex can dig up from the cloud sea, things that have nothing to do with death and everything to do with _ living_. Rex wants his customers to see that when they come to them. He wants them to see that normal life doesn't stop just because a queen and an emperor get angry at each other, and that maybe if they all got along a little better then they'd be happier living in their dying world.

Because it is dying.

And that's it, isn't it. At the end of the day, _ that's _ his reason for salvaging. It isn't just to save Alrest by trying to spread a little peace, a little novelty, a little light and happiness and joy - it's because maybe, just maybe, there's something in the cloud sea that can save them. Maybe there's some bit of ancient medicine that can save the titans, or a bit of technology that can double a crop load, or _ something _that can make their dead world not-dead. Hell, maybe he’ll even find a way to Elysium, the eternal land with endless food and space. The point is, there’s got to be something that can make life better. Something that can fight back the cloud of despair Rex feels in the air when people talk about war, or sees in a fellow orphan's eyes when they use what meager change they have to buy a slice of bread for dinner.

Because Rex knows he can't do much on his own. He can do everything for Fonsett, but almost nothing for the whole world. And he wants to.

Because he doesn't want anyone he loves to suffer, and he loves the whole world.

And it makes him feel terrible.

\---

Just a few months shy of his sixteenth birthday - or rather, when Auntie Corrine celebrates his birthday, because she doesn't actually know when it is - he finds her. The medicine. The technology. The thing that will save the world.

But she's not a thing - she's a girl, and a blade.

_ His _blade. It's still a weird thought to have.

They go to Argentum not long after leaving Uraya, on their way to Indol to meet the Praetor. It's overwhelming, to think so much has happened in just a few weeks. He's a driver, his blade is the legendary aegis, he technically has two blades since she's got another form (with blonde hair and a temper) and a third on the way in the form of Roc's core crystal, which hangs heavy and inactive in his bag for the time being. He's gone to Gormott and Uraya, both of which are far more beautiful that he could've ever imagined, he's lost the only man he maybe could've considered a father figure, and now he's going to go meet the Praetor. The man who's been keeping Alrest from falling into absolute chaos for basically Rex's entire life. The man who Rex has grown to admire after years of hearing news about how Indol mediated yet _ another _dispute between Mor Ardain and Uraya.

Oh, and he made enough money off of the salvaging job he took from Torna that he only needs to salvage once every few days now for pocket change, and he'll probably never have to send money home again. The kids can have as many books as they want. The village can install two new water wells. Auntie Corrine can buy a carpet for every room in the house.

It's a lot to process.

Luckily, Pyra is there to help focus him - or maybe, to distract him. When he looks at her, she's all he can see, and he ends up ignoring all the weird and awful and wonderful things that've happened. Instead he focuses on the way her lips move when she talks and how different types of light catch on her hair. The lights in the Rumbletum Canteen are yellow, and the highlights in Pyra's hair are accordingly orange. It looks like she's wreathed in flames. Rex is awestruck.

"Are you okay?" she asks, pulling him out of his reverie. "You seem distracted."

"No, I'm fine!" he says, taking another drink of his coffee to prove it. "I've just got a lot on my mind recently."

"I bet you do." Pyra smiles. It's not the same smile that Auntie Corrine or Melolo or Max give him. He feels light headed. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault."

"What d'you mean?" The lights in the canteen flicker. There's been a slight power reduction in Goldmouth recently, due to a lack of convicted criminals to work the generators. Pyra's emerald core glows briefly in the darkness. Rex gulps.

Pyra curls a hand on top of her chest. Her fingertip brushes the empty place in the center of her core. Rex subconsciously raises his hand to where the missing piece is embedded in his own chest. "You were dragged into all of this because you're my driver. If you weren't, you… you might be better off."

"Come on, don't say that," he says, feeling a little braver than he normally does around Pyra. Maybe it's the fact that he knows Argentum, or the fact that they share pain. Even if that only really applies to physical pain Rex can tell Pyra is hurting and he wants to help shoulder her sorrow, desperately. "Jin and Malos dragged me into this, not you. And even if I had a chance to go back, I wouldn't."

Pyra looks utterly surprised. "You wouldn't? Even after seeing our power?"

"Course not. You saved my life, Pyra! I owe you for that."

"I see…." Pyra tightens her grip around her tea. It's gotten as cold. So has Rex's coffee. She looks even sadder than she did before.

Rex mentally kicks himself. "I didn't mean it like that! Pyra, you - you mean a lot to me."

"O-oh?" The lights flicker again. Rex takes a deep breath while they're out.

"Yeah," he says, staring resolutely at his coffee cup. "I mean, I did promise you, but I've got other reasons for staying by your side. You know."

Silence falls for a moment. Finally, Pyra speaks. "Yes, I do. You want to save the world, right?"

"Huh?"

"You want to see Elysium with your own eyes, so you can prove it exists and bring everyone in Alrest there," she continues, a small smile on her face. She's looking at her cup, too. They watch each other out of the corner of their eyes. "Then blades and humans can live together in peace. It's a lovely thought."

"It's not just a thought," Rex says. "I'll make it happen. I promise."

Pyra turns her smile away from her cup and towards him. "I believe you."

Rex can't help the grin that springs to life on his own face.

They stay at Lemour Inn for the night. As everyone shuffles around the lobby and gets ready to turn in for the night, Rex takes Pyra's hand and leads her away.

"Rex?" she asks, worried. "What is it?"

"There's another reason," he says, running off of coffee and adrenaline and the hope that maybe she'll feel the same way. "I really like you, and I want to stay by your side, even after we get to Elysium."

"Oh." Pyra squeezes his hand. She's blushing hard and can't look him in the eyes. "I really like you, too."

It's for the best that they decide to split up with girls in one room and guys in the other, because Rex thinks he might die if he keeps looking at Pyra. He stays up for ages, too giddy to sleep, until exhaustion finally takes him over. He dreams of him and Pyra dancing at the bottom of the sea, wearing diving suits and laughing as the clouds swirl around them. Sometimes Pyra's eyes shift a bit and look more golden than red, but it's a perfect dream regardless.

He wakes up to blonde hair tickling his nose and thinks _ huh, I guess I like you, too. _

\---

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this relying mostly on memory and when i rewatched the fonsett cutscenes, i realized none of the other kids were gormotti.... whatever, it's my fic lol


End file.
